Hopeless Causes
by Breon Briarwood
Summary: Pity-party for one! Implied mild slash. One-shot.


Title: Hopeless Causes

Author: Breon Briarwood

Rating: G

Characters: Frodo, Sam, Aragorn

Summary: Pity-party for one.

Disclaimer: Don't own them, never have, never will. BTW- I took some liberty with movie-verse dialogue.

"Now Sam, I'm fine, really. I just want to lie down a while."

"But Mr. Frodo-"

"No. Go enjoy yourself for once. You might want to tour the gardens, I hear they are exquisite."

"But-"

"Go, Sam. I shall be fine."

"Well, alright then. If you're sure . . . "

"Absolutely! Now go. You can tell me about it later."

A grin spread across Sam's face as he closed the door behind him and set off down the hall.

Frodo sat in the chair by the hearth waiting, estimating the time it would take Sam to reach the gardens. There was something he wanted to do for quite some time now and it wouldn't do to have Sam hanging about.

He pictured his friend, thinking about the unwavering devotion that shown in his gaze whenever their eyes met, his steadfast loyalty. It made him uncomfortable at times, this undeclared love for his master, but he also knew that Sam would never put himself forward, would never try to speak of it.

"Just as well, I don't want to hurt Sam. I care for him, just not the way he cares for me."

He got up and cracked the door open to see if the hall was clear. Frodo slipped out the door, shutting it carefully behind him and padded softly down the corridor, wondering what he would say to the man when he found him.

Frodo though back on when they first met in Bree. He had been frightened of Strider, but after the Nazgul attack that night, he looked at the ranger in a new light. Against all proper hobbit instincts, he trusted the man, was impressed by his quiet strength and determined command of the situation.

Tramping through the wilderness, despite pursuit by enemies, he felt safe in the man's care. A tender word here and there, a gentle touch to soothe fears, under Strider's constant concern he felt protected, cherished . . . loved. Frodo's admiration for the ranger blossomed into a full-blown crush.

After Weather Top all was dark shadow and pain for Frodo, cold and lonely. He could feel the man's intense need for him to stay connected to this world, it was all that kept Frodo from losing himself to the void. He felt lost without the man's presence nearby, as he had felt since awakening here in Rivendell.

And now that he was well enough not to need constant tending, he intended to seek out the ranger. Not knowing if he would have a chance after the council tomorrow, Frodo wanted to speak with him now, to tell the man of his feelings.

"I just hope it doesn't hurt Sam too much."

He found the right corridor and approached the door. As he was about to knock, he heard the murmur of voices in the room and paused. He didn't want to come back later because he wasn't sure when he'd have another chance. Sam dogged his every footstep it seemed.

Frodo thought to wait at the end of the hall, watching for the visitor to leave. As he was turning away the voices raised a bit and their words became clearer.

"We shouldn't be doing this."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to hurt him."

"I don't want to hurt him either, but I haven't given him cause to believe . . . "

"Nor I, but it's there all the same. Don't get me wrong, I care for him an' all, but it's you I love."

"Oh Sam, I've wanted to hear you say that for the longest time."

Frodo stumbled back from the door and ran blindly back to his room, trying to escape the pain in his heart. He threw himself onto the bed and released his grief in a torrent of tears, his soul-wracking sobs buried in the pillows.

Worn out by his emotions, weak from grief and wound, he fell into a fitful sleep and was unaware when Sam returned to the room.

- (next day) -

"You cannot do this thing! It is folly. Not with ten thousand could you hope to accomplish this deed. It is a journey without hope of success - or return!" Boromir returned to his seat, scowling, awaiting the judgement of the council.

Frodo stood up, "I will take the ring . . . "

The End


End file.
